Monday, 30 January 2012

It's not because I am home that I stop having my sandwich treats. In fact, no matter how I like the sandwich shop close to work, there is nothing I love more than the wraps I buy here at Folie en Vrac (sorry I couldn't find anything in English). It is a fancy food shop , with strong Mediterranean/North African influcences. They sell olives, dry fruits, nuts, pasta, biological crisps, olive oil, baklavas, what have you. And they also have a sandwich bar, or whatever you call it, where they serve wraps. Today and eysterday, I had a wrap for lunch: végé pâté, with spinach sauce and tzatziki sauce (yesterday) and spinach sauce and some kind of yogurt sauce (today). Lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, green olives, a drizzle of olive oil, some herbs and spices (curry and coriander I think).And a San Pellegrino to drink (aranciatta rossa). Quite a feast.

Sunday, 29 January 2012

I am typing this on my brother's computer (I will hand it back shortly) at the family's station in Montreal.I am on holiday, jetlagged for now but enjoying being here again.So this will be a short post, merely a reminder that I am not dead (although I feel slightly zombie) and sitll blogging.

I say I have not much to say so far (but stay tuned), however the journey here already gave me a great unknown line. As I was buying my bus ticket to go to Heathrow, the bus driver gave me the price for a long journey return and then asked: "Is that okay with you sir?" And I replied: "Well, you tell me." Did he expect me to bargain for it?

Friday, 27 January 2012

I was waiting by the train station tonight, on my way home. It was cold, not freezing but still cold, it had rained a lot by the end of the afternoon so it felt quite wet. Like yesterday, I enjoyed this quiet moment after a hard day. I didn't see the cats, sadly. If it hadn't been so cold, I would have felt like in a spaghetti western (this one). It is not even far fetched: I saw a few days ago a woman wearing cowboy hat and coat, she looked like Clint Eastwood (or Clint Eastwood's female wannabe). She was eccentric, but I thought the clothes were appropriate for the journey. I associate train travels with adventure and mystery, and the small, middle of nowhere train station I was in felt very much like a great setting for the beginning of such story. This reminded me why the train is maybe my favourite mode of transport.

Thursday, 26 January 2012

This is another post about those little nothings that make life (I do them sometimes). I hadn't made my lunch yesterday so had to go to my favourite place to buy a sandwich. It was rainy, but nothing Apocalyptic, just a small drizzle. And I really enjoyed it. I do enjoy walks in the rain sometimes. It is not a walk in the snow, but it is enjoyable nevertheless. And I will have my walks in the snow soon.

That might sound silly, but after a monotonous yet exhausting month, it was a nice, calming moment. And I also have a good coat that keeps me warm and that is so very nicely waterproof. For those looking for one and who are not shocked by this shameless publicity bit, it's a Berghaus. Back in Liverpool, I bought a cheap winter coat in an open market, I thought it was warm and waterproof, it ended up being neither. I still like it, I wonder why. With my new one, I look like an otter when I put the hood up and it rains. I feel like one too. Rain is enjoyable if you can stay dry.

Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Sometimes there are news that make me despair of the human race, yet there are others that make me marvel about the animal kingdom. And when I learn about cats, it is to marvel at their intelligence, beauty, resilience, and overall superiority. Cats are superior creatures and I am convinced that one day, when mankind will have disappeared due to its own stupidity, the feline race will take over and this planet will be in good hands. Or paws.

Anyway, yesterday Matt Dillahunty linked on Facebook an article about a sicko who had murdered a cat of a Democratic Campaign Manager. It had got me very upset and gave me bad dreams. Wanton cruelty over animals, especially animals I love, always makes me upset. I learnt today in the Metro (your reference for pointless news when you are tired) that a cat had won a fight against an alligator over some chicken. It scared the alligator off! Somebody filmed it and it got viral on Youtube. Okay, this is pure trashy news. And after watching the video I am honestly not very proud of the human species I mean somebody should have worried about the cat. I didn't like the cheap laugh, the amused comments, the whole America's Funniest Home Videos feel and look, nothing in fact but the fearless, in your face attitude of the feline.It is the attitude that got the better of the saurian, not the cat's size, not its claws or fangs, but its stare, its fearlessness, its character.

I don't know exactly why, but I make an association with both stories. In Elmore Leonard's Maximum Bob, an ex-convict, pathetic criminal is compared to an alligator: stupid, mean, but dangerous. The sick guy who killed a cat is also a mean, stupid, cold blooded, cold heart saurian. He should be locked away for good. But hey there are cats. Smart creatures that can hold their ground. It does not mean they are soft: anyone who has seen a cat hunting can witness how merciless they can be. But there is no real meanness to it: cats do it out of hunger and for self preservation. And unlike crocodiles, alligators and other saurians (who eat their own offspring) they are capable of tenderness and empathy. And they get the better of alligators sometimes. I hesitated to upload the video here, but decided to do it anyway.

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

I am going back to Montreal on holidays soon. After nearly two years of absence, it is about time. I don't know exactly what I will do on my first day in the city to get over the jetlag, many friends want to see me already, but I know I will visit a few of my old places, among them the Bouquinerie du Plateau, where I will very likely buy a second hand Série Noire. On holidays, I read crime fiction a lot, I mean even more than usual. And on top of that I read real crime books, such as Mafia Inc (albeit I read it in French), a brilliant history of the mafia in Montreal. It has been on my bookshelves for ages, I savour it like little by little.I am tempted to bring the book with me, just to read it there.

The more I read crime fiction and real crime history, the more I think that Montreal is such an ideal setting for crime fiction. It has been criminally (ha, ha, ha! the pun!) neglected as a genre. I mean yes, we made one really good TV series (or two), but the literary genre is not really developed. And yet, there is so much to work on, to start with our messy crime history. Kevin Burton Smith (fellow Montrealer) summed it up here. We have everything: a history of violence, a history of corruption, aa history of tensions between various communities, of tensions between the various police forces, the geography, at the gate of America yet with a port that leads to the Old World. It is just such a great setting, with atmosphere and character(s).

Monday, 23 January 2012

I am not inspired much tonight. Maybe it's Monday, well, it obviously is Monday, but I mean maybe it is because it is Monday. but stay tuned, I will soon have some interesting things to say. I hope. But now, I decided to blog a great unknown line I heard recently. I was waiting for a night without inspiration to write it on the blog. And I need to warn my readerships now: I know I often blog about sandwiches, but this is a great unknown line that was triggered because of sandwiches.Great unknown lines are often about food.

So I was at my desk at work a few weeks ago and a colleague came back from Waitrose or Sainsbury's with her lunch, there was some cheap sandwich and she was mentioning how poor quality were the sandwiches you buy in supermarkets. My manager said: "you should trust the English to make good sandwiches, we invented them." Which is true. And then another colleague (Welsh), said the great unknown line: "The English invented football and tennis, it doesn't mean they are good at it." The whole room started laughing. I don't follow either football or tennis, but even I can appreciate it. And like this one, it can work for every nation, you just need to change the invention.

Sunday, 22 January 2012

I live in a posh town, with many, many restaurants, sometimes I think there are more restaurants than there are people. And this is not counting the pubs. Some are chains, some are family places, others are fancy places. And this is not counting pubs. There is a relatively new restaurant, a year old at the most, a posh restaurant with expensive meals. It looks like a nice enough place, on a first floor that gives a view to the main street, the menu if expensive seems nice enough (that said I enjoy any place with a good choice of fish) but I find the way they branded the restaurant a bit... pretentious? I am just not so sure about it.

And recently, I discovered that they are having special evenings, among them opera nights. Basically, it's an evening three courses meal with a soprano singing famour opera arias. At £35 all in all (I guess it is without counting the drinks). I am of two minds about it. Seriously. I mean the concept is interesting, it mixes two pleasures in life and if the food and the music are good, well it could be a winner. But my problem is that it could be an excuse for snobbery. The danger with art, any art, is that sometimes the crowd and being part of the crowd is more important than the art itself. Interesting fact that kind of bugs me: on the restaurant's website, I can see the menu for the Opera Night, but not the programme. I know what I would eat, from starter to dessert (fish, fish and then chocolate), but I have no idea what I would listen to. And it keeps bugging me. For much cheaper I can make dinner fior a few friends myself, I can get a CD or two, I can invite a few friends and I can have my own Opera Night. After a few glasses I might sing a bit myself. It will not be as professional, but I can guarantee it will not be half bad.

I cannot blog about opera without uploading here an aria. So I decided to put here something from Zaide, an unfinished work of Mozart. Interpreted by Natalie Dessay. Someone I doubt we can have in a local restaurant, unfortunately.

As it is Sunday and the weekend is quickly going away, I am feeling my usual melancholic self today. I also feel little inspiration to blog. Today there is a furious wind outside, so strong that the window frames shake a bit and I saw a cedar tree bend down. I was surprised it didn't snap altogether. I get impressed by these details: strong blowing wind, broken down branches, or trees. The weather of this country is supposed to be moderate, temperate, average, but there is nothing average about the weather.The strenght of the wind never cease to amaze me and I find it quite a show. It breaks the monotony of this Sunday, chases it away. I hope it brings me some inspiration for later. I sound like a lousy poet, but weather do influence my state of mind. As a child, I could spend ages walking around the garden on a windy day.

Saturday, 21 January 2012

As my readership knows, I am trying to widen my readership. Not that I don't think the readers I have are unworthy or anything, but I just want to have more readers. So I suscribed to Blog Love Therapy recently, a blog directory that Tao.Owl made me discover. Vraie Fiction is in the Personal Blogs section. It is in many ways a personal blog, in spite of its title. Let's see if it brings me more readers. It is the first blog directory I have ever suscribed to. I wonder if among the DIY, cooking and fashion blogs I saw there mine will stand out.

Friday, 20 January 2012

After the disappointment of last Friday's sandwich treat, I decided to play it safe today: it was a simple smoked salmon baguette, with red onions, Philadelphia cheese, tomatoes, lemon, salt and pepper. Maybe my favourite so far. With Coca Cola and cashew nuts, as usual. And in the morning I had for breakfast a totally decadent chocolate muffin with a hot chocolate, courtesy of Café2U. I could exercise my Italian too. Not much, but it was a nice moment all the same.

Thursday, 19 January 2012

I am getting back, if I may, to this evening I spent in a pub with my fellow thespians. It was very nice, even though on a Wednesday I am more tired and I tend not to go out for a drink. I only had a pint and a half, but I felt them strongly. Unlike my previous evening out with fellow actors last year, they were not from the same generation. And we were a small number: my teacher and four students all in all.

We would all like to act again, in one capacity or another. In my case I really miss the stage. I mean I really loved the radio play, but the stage is my natural element, I think, although I haven't tried the screen yet. In any case, it felt good to give and receive news to/from people with shared interest. As I mentioned before, art creates a special bond. I am not a very social person in general, but this is the kind of society I actually enjoy to spend with, it is the community I feel I belong to. I may never be a great actor (by this read: an accomplished/professional one), my career took a radically different path, but I feel more natural as an actor as I am as a anything else.

And I couldn't help observing the small crowd around us and its surroundings. The pub is I guess a natural place for an actor (to rehearse or to booze). But it is also a gathering place for teenagers who are not quite old enough to drink (or don't look like it), employees of a M&S and well, middle of the week drinkers, all either younger or older than me. The pub had the lovely if common name of George & Dragon, but it is a bland one, part of a chain, everything looks all creamy beige and it smells of fried chicken. It used to look quite nice before it was bought, now it looks like. Well a chain. I was lucky to be in good company, I also had my favourite beer to drink, so I enjoyed my time regardless of the characterless surroundings. And it was quiet enough so we could hear our conversations. Still, what a waste of a beautiful name. I might suggest another pub next time, a place with character.

Tuesday, 17 January 2012

I don't have much of a social life here, sometimes I avoid people even. I don't like spending time with my colleagues outside of work and I love to spend my evenings in. Most of the time that is. I do feel the need to see people, as long as they are like-minded. So I was happy to learn that at last, I was going to see again my fellow actors/acting students, those who did the radio plays. We are going to take a pint (or two) in a nearby pub, the same one we went to after we recorded the plays. That is a nice way to cut the week in half and to end a Wednesday. I am not sure how numerous we are going to be, so far I counted five or six people including me, which isn't that many. But it will be nice to see them again, all the same. Here, it is the closest thing I have to a circle of friends, even though they are little more than acquaintances. We do share the same interests, which counts for something. And the bond that is created when one practice an art together is always quite strong, no matter how little we meet. Maybe not as strong as intense.

It will also be a time of nostalgia. I say nostalgia and the class ended less than a year ago. But again, it was very intense. And it is something I miss and I am sure I am not the only one. When one gets into acting, it is a hook: he might stop for a while for various reasons (rarely good ones), but the longing stays in him/her. The good thing is that one can start acting again. I don't know when I will do it, but I know I will.

Monday, 16 January 2012

It was Blue Monday today, which I blogged about before. I know it is a whole lot of rubbish, I can understand why some are irritated by it. But even as a modern superstition, I can understand the appeal of it: January as a month sure sucks. Monday as a day often does. For me, it is more about surviving the-post Christmas blues. And my Mondays are always a bit blue. Today was cold, icy even, it felt like a nasty Monday, but it was uneventful at work. I was just tired. It was just a Monday.

Sunday, 15 January 2012

After a rather warm Christmas season, heck, since the beginning of what has been the warmest winter in a long time (on record?), it is cold again in England. I can barely believe it. Well, yes I can: January is in general a cold month, wherever you are on the Northern emisphere. Where I come from, it is when you have the nastiest temperatures. But I went out yesterday and today and twice I was struck on how stingy the cold air is. Cold as it should have been a month ago.

Another anecdote of some interest: it still looks like Christmas in some places. In the pub where I had my pint, where I drank my usual seasonal beer, they were serving mulled wine, mulled cider and winter Pimm's (!). Christmas lights and a Christmas wreath were on display. This late after the season, I do find it out of time. I could understand the warm drinks, especially since it is cold. But the decorations, not so much.

There was my employer's big "new year" party yesterday, a big black tie event/dinner. I didn't go. I didn't want to go, I like to have my weekends as far away from work, physically and mentally, as I can. I need this psychological distance. So I am as scruffy and asocial as I can look like now, borderline hippy. Well, I haven't shaved for three days and I am wearing clothes that had better days. Not shaving and wearing old clothes is for me the equivalent of a blissful weekend. Society and mundane life is so overrated.

Saturday, 14 January 2012

I guess I have little inspiration to blog these days, so I write little and share music that is in my head. Well, gets stuck in my head really. I downed a pint before dinner tonight (Chinese take away from a nearby pub). Why downing a pint quickly before meal? Well, you'll see tomorrow (and understand if you read French, ha ha, ha). And there was American Pie playing in the background. I couldn't help but sing it a bit. It is the kind of song you listen to when you have a drink in the stomach. And on a Saturday evening. This is the kind of music I was listening to with my Italian friends when we were drinking in instead of going out. This or another one. But it is American Pie that was stuck in my head tonight. Although I cannot even pretend I know all the lyrics. Heck, I know zilch about Don McLean now. And the song is about a time I never lived, a youth that was never mine. Yet like any good song it appeals to all young people, or all people who were young.

Friday, 13 January 2012

Maybe it was because of Friday the 13th, maybe simply because I was tired or because I tried to be creative/different too much, but my sandwich treat today for lunch was uninspired: a hot sausages baguette with ketchup (I thought it was HP sauce) and horseradish sauce. With salad. I mean, really, salad. Obviously I had in mind the hot dogs of William Walter in Montreal. I forgot that you cannot recreate it here (real, quality sausage, Dijon mustard, sauerkraut, sliced gherkins). I mean I ate it all right, I was hungry, but it was lacking. I downed it with Coke Zero (bad idea), because I could have a pint of the thing for the price of a can (50% free). At least I had cashew nuts. Oh well, I wanted to try their sort of hot dogs. I cannot get it right all the time. I was also served by one of the less inspired members of the staff. My favourite employee, the most enthusiastic who gets it right all the time as if he knew my stomach, was busy with a lady client, incidentally a coworker.

What else to say about the experience? Well, I am called alternatively "sir" and "mate". They are always friendly with me, at least. But next time I go with a safe choice.

Il est 13:13 et c'est le vendredi 13. Je suis présentement au travail, mais j'ai pensé écrire ce billet la veille, parce que... Enfin, parce que. Vous trouverez un sens à ce billet.
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It is 13:13 and it is Friday the 13th. I am at work now and I wrote this post the night before. I just thought I would publish it because. Well, just because.You try to find a meaning to this post.

Thursday, 12 January 2012

I blog about it again, sorry if I repeat myself. So yes, as a foreword, for those who don't know it already (in case I had new readers, you never know): I am a night owl. I do not live like one anymore, except on weekends and holidays, but I am at heart and by nature. It is in my biological clock, in my temperament, my psychology, what have you. But I wake up early every morning and I work hard all day.

I am still not used to it. I mean really not. I stay awake and everything, but often feel zombies and out of place, or rather out of time. I came back from work today with a strange feeling: I was ready to collapse and fall asleep. If I hadn't been so hungry I would have had. But I ate, my head almost in my plate. Okay I am exagerating, I was not so ready to collapse. But I was sore and tired. I am sore and tired. Yet as I am writing this I am not in bed yet, I have indeed been postponing it. There are just so many things left to do, and I often have the feeling that night time is the only time one has to do them, and appreciate them. Reading, writing, blogging, it's just easier to do at night. No matter how tired I am, I am not eager to go to bed. On the plus side, I do not have much insomnia anymore. When I lie down, I sleep.

Wednesday, 11 January 2012

This Friday (on Friday the 13th, of all days!), there will be a bit of anniversary celebration at work because the company is now twenty years old. And since it was founded in the early nineties, it the theme is... the nineties. Which I am a bit dubious about. I mean, it makes sense, but it just doesn't feel so long ago, and the nineties don't have the same nostalgic imprint as, say, the seventies or the sixties. I blogged about the nineties myself, a bit less than three years ago, a post that got unnoticed. I spent my teenage and early adulthood in the nineties, yet for me it was already then a time of nostalgia, a decade built on nostalgia.

Anyway, I might muse a bit more about it on Friday. For me it will most likely be a Friday like any other. I rarely join in office celebrations, I participate very little. One cannot accuse me of laziness. It will be a 90s themed celebration, with videogames and clothes from the time, but I wonder what was really typical of the nineties in any aspect. I remember living them, but the feeling of the time period, of something specific to it, is all muddled up: I still have my sideburns which I grew then (1995 I think), I listen to the same music (which dates from way before) and my clothes are little or no different than the ones I used to wear then. Actually, I think I probably have some of the same clothes I wore then!

Tuesday, 10 January 2012

I know close to nothing about Blue Oyster Cult, apart from their name and this hilarious parody from Saturday Night Life (watch it here). This is where I noticed (Don't Fear) the Reaper, discovering later on that it was also in Halloween, when Laurie and Annie are driving to their babysitting places, smoking pot and being tailed by Michael Myers. Ominous. Anyway, my mind is blank tonight, but from this song in my head, so I decided to upload it here. It might not be very cheerful, but one cannot be every day: it's Tuesday of a grey January month, after all. It would work well for a Halloween song, obviously, but it also fits the time here. And I love good old rock, songs that last more than two minutes and changes of beat. If you find it too depressing so early in the week, watch the SNL sketch.

Monday, 9 January 2012

I don't know why I don't put "Facebook" in my labels, as I get lots of blogging inspiration from it. Anyway, I don't like Mondays. I mean I find Mondays very grey, dull, tiredsome, sometimes even depressing. So today was like this. Then a friend of mine (who lives somewhat nearby but I haven't seen in nearly a decade), wrote this on her Wall: "is having a happy Monday!"

Well, I don't want to spoil anybody's fun, I am not a cruel person, or an envious one, but I found it borderline masochistic. So I commented: "Is there such a thing?" It is pessimistic, grouchy even, but in the same time it was cathartic. It takes nothing away from her happiness, just allows me to share the Monday feeling. And forget about it until next week.

Sunday, 8 January 2012

Following the blog's tradition of uploading a front cover of a pulp magazine and commenting on it every month, I have uploaded here the cover of Detective Tales from January 1939. And what a cover! You cannot go much further in melodrama, sadism and violence. I love it particularly as it mixes elements of pulp hardboiled crime fiction and ghotic horror. Wrapped up in a sadism that even a modern gore movie would appreciate. The blonde damsel in distress is even bleeding! From a torture device made from the mechanism of/hidden in an old-fashioned clock. And there is a man disguised in a knight's armour, not chivalrous at all, about to hit the brunette with what appears to be a morning star. How more Freudian can you get? And the hero is shooting at some unknown enemy. If the focus is on the blonde damsel in distress and the instrument of torture (and execution) that is literally drilling her head, the hero is also an interesting character: he is squared jaw and athletic, every bit the hardboiled private eye he probably is, but there is also the elegant tuxedo, usually worn by the villain (see other entries). It's just such a fascinating, powerful image. And no, I cannot even think of a story going with it.

Saturday, 7 January 2012

I was thinking about it when I heard the local radio making a massacre of my name after the radio play: I actually have an Italian name. Maybe I should have it as my artist's name. It was given by my Italian friends from my first yeat at uni here, as they couldn't pronounce my name either, not my first or my second.

My Italian name is Guglielmo Bergamo. Guglielmo because it is the Italian version of Guillaume, Bergamo because of the town. It is where one of my closest friends come from, it is the Italian place I know best (albeit I went there after I received its name), it also has a nice ring to it, so it is fitting. I love it anyway, although I seldom used it.

Friday, 6 January 2012

I don't know if I bore my readers with it, but I know some will enjoy this post, so here it is, for those who are interested, the weekly post about my usual Friday's sandwich treat. I was worried I couldn't get there before closing time because I was stuck on the phone at the last minute. But I managed to get there in time.

So this time I had a salmon baguette sandwich, but with a twist: one half was with horseradish sauce, the other one with cream cheese. Both sides had salt, pepper, tomatoes, lettuce, red onions and lemon juice. On the side: cashew nuts. To drink: Coca Cola. I went for a safe choice, maybe because it was the first Friday's sandwich treat of the week. Next Friday I will be more daring. You'll see.

One last observation: they don't call me "sir" anymore. Now it's "man", "mate" and "my friend". I think it is because I am now a regular...

Thursday, 5 January 2012

As the title says, this is officially my first great unknown line of the year. I am glad I found one today as I thought this blog lacked wit recently. Anyway, at my workplace, we havce a Christmas party... in January. Well, it is more a New Year party really, but since we do not have a proper Christmas party apart from a quick lunch around the 20 something, everybody calls it the Christmas party. Which is absurd. I didn't go last year and I have no intention to go this year. Too early/late to celebrate, I am tired, I feel slightly antisocial, whatever reason I will not go. But today a colleague asked me: "So are you going to the Christmas party?" So I answered: "Christmas 2012? It's too early for me to tell."

Wednesday, 4 January 2012

Sometimes I feel like my life is a long, monotonous déjà vu. (A note to my English readers: it is pronounced "déjà veuuuu", not "déjà view"). Yet there is something striking in repetitive phenomenons. I am taking about a cedar branch that is lying down on my way to and from the train station. There was one last December and earlier in May, at the exact same place. I am wondering sometimes if someone didn't try to patch the cedar branch on its tree.

There is a very good reason for the branch to be torn down from the tree: yesterday was windy like, it poured with rain, overall it looked like a wet, windy Doomsday. It is actually amazing there weren't more branches around, even whole trees, down on the street. Maybe I am feeling gloomy, it looks like I am almost hoping for a mini English Apocalypse (well, to be honest I do sometimes). But even if I don't, I find this cedar branch fascinating, even though I am not sure why.

Tuesday, 3 January 2012

I was back to work today, and while it is a Tuesday and therefore the week will be shorter, I thought I would treat myself to make me forget that I had pretty lousy half-baked, half done holidays. I need to fight the post-Christmas blues, and all that. Sandwich treats are a great way to improve a gloomy mood, they are a great way to make a good day even better and they don't have to be on Friday.

So I made myself a sandwich, made with leftovers from Christmas, which is very fitting. On a ciabatta (the only bit that I purchased new), I put some Brie cheese and cranberry sauce. The cranberry sauce had been made by myself for Christmas. A bit too sweet (I put a little bit more sugar than needed), but still very good. The first day back at work officially after those lousy, half-baked was fittingly gloomy and miserable, so eating my sandwich today really cheered me up. Because it was delicious. And there is something cheerful about the cultural origins of all its composites: French Brie, Italian ciabatta and North American cranberry sauce, from a family (albeit simplistic) recipe. Maybe I am reading too much into it. It was just a sandwich after all. But it was a good one when I needed it.

Monday, 2 January 2012

"Sternwood: I seem to exist largely on heat, like a newborn spider. The orchids are an excuse for the heat. Do you like orchids?Marlowe: Not particularly.Sternwood: Nasty things! Their flesh is too much like the flesh of men, and their perfume has the rotten sweetness of corruption."

I know I already quoted the above here, but I had to use it again for this post. I was looking for a new picture for this month and the new year, something that would look like winter yet not too much like Christmas. So I found this one dad sent me, an orchid in the conservatory, where you cans ee the snow in the background. I thought it was an interesting contrast. And at the moment I am reading Farewell, My Lovely. Not the same novel, but it still from the same author and it features Philip Marlowe. So to kick start my year as a reader I am reading a crime fiction classic and to kick start this year as a blogger (yesterday's post was barely more than an announcement, but I will come back to it), I have this interesting picture. Please feel free to give me your impressions about it.

Sunday, 1 January 2012

First English post of the year, and it is a short one. First I want to wish you all a Happy New Year (with capital letters), you will forgive me not to dwell much on the New Year. I have no idea what to do with the topic for now.

I mentioned here that I was going to be broadcast in a radio play. Well, you can listen to me tonight (or today depending of where you are), between 8 and 10PM GMT, here. I play George in The Reddcut Treatment by Holly Powell-Jones. I am very proud of the result and I hope it will show on the radio. I got the raspy voice thanks to the peanut butter, as my readers may know. In any case, I hope can take the opportunity to listen to it and that you will enjoy.